


Here's To The Broken Ones

by tobifreakazoid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hunter!Reader, Male-Female Friendship, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sexual Content, Smut, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:19:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4276632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobifreakazoid/pseuds/tobifreakazoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a hunt, Dean and Sam crashes at the Reader's house, since she had went on said hunt with them. She and Dean had long been sex-friends, but she was also the one that Dean goes to when he has problems. This is one of those nights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here's To The Broken Ones

“You sure this is fine, (y/n)?”, Sam asked, dropping his duffel bag at the entrance of (y/n)’s apartment.

She shrugged her jacket off, throwing it into the laundry basket. “Course it is. Just don’t get any blood on the furniture. The last time it stained, I nearly lost my mind trying to get it off. Put your clothes in the laundry basket. I’ll clean ‘em up later.”  
After a pretty horrendous Ifrit hunt, the three of them were pretty banged up. The djinn had been a nuisance for quite some time in that particular area, mostly soul-sucking the residents of the small town and masquerading in their flesh. The Winchesters had caught wind of the case, and had asked for (y/n)’ s assistance, seeing that she was a hunter that specializes in djinns and demons.

The night had been filled with a lot of cusses, bangs, slashes, mean pyroworks, a couple of plans gone wrong, and then finally ended with the djinn being trapped and vaporized, thanks to the blades that (y/n) had blessed beforehand. Silver and steel shaped into a mean killing machine, the blades were carved with protective and offensive runes, cooled under holy water to oppose the flames of the Ifrit. 

Her apartment wasn’t that big, perfect for a hunter on the go, but also has the feel of comfort and being lived in. Knick knacks littered whatever space she had in her abode, surrounding the couch and television in what was supposed to be the living room.  
She made her way to her room, gathering and armful of pillows and blankets for the boys. They were probably cleaning up, so she laid out everything she had brought. The living room would have to suffice as her apartment only had two room, one of them being her bedroom and the other a store room for her hunting gear.

“Hey, thanks, (Y/n), for letting us stay the night. It would be a bitch to find a motel this late.”

She turned to face Sam, smiling. He was drying his hair, already in his T-shirt and sweatpants. She had always had a soft spot for the younger Winchester, mainly because he had a comforting aura to him, even though he was heads taller than she was, and that was saying something. She wasn’t petite. Hunting had made her lean, hard and lithe, nothing like those ideal women that the media keeps blabbing about.

“Don’t mention it, big guy. What’s mine is yours. Except for the cheesecake at the back of the fridge. Touch that and die a painful death.”

“Yeah, yeah. Women and their desserts. By the way, have you seen Dean? I couldn’t find him anywhere. If you see him, tell ‘em that I’m gonna crash for the night.” He settled himself in the pile of comforters that she made, pulling one over himself.

“No, i haven't seen him, but I'll tell him if i do. Sweet dreams, Sammy.”

His only reply was a grunt. She grabbed a towel and went straight to the bathroom. She wanted, no, needed to scrub off all of the grime and dirt that stuck to her like a second layer of skin. Being a hunter and a girl was tough. Dates and getting asked out was pretty non-existent, with her scars and attitude. Make up became a hindrance after a while, and dressing up ceased because she didn’t have an occasion to. She immersed herself in work, helping the community sleep with their souls still intact and their bodies not mutilated and hacked to pieces. She mulled through these thoughts as the cold water from the shower head cascaded down her body. She stayed under the shower, scrubbing until her skin turned scarlet. She took her sweet time, enjoying the water, until her hands pruned over. She wrapped a towel around herself and marched off into her room, passing by a snoring Sam on the way. 

She turned on the lights of her room, mildly surprised to find a figure already on it. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done this before. Dean wasn’t someone that can be described as morally straight, and she wasn’t exactly a nun, so after a few shots and outrageous flirting, they fucked. And it has been going on for a pretty long time. A hunter’s life isn’t a nine-to-five kinda gig, but she was glad for this one constant in her life; Dean.

She moved to the man sprawled on her bed. He had showered and was wearing an old shirt and shorts. “Hey”, she said gently, rousing him from his sleep. He stirred, turning around to face her, rubbing his eyes. He was adorable, she thought, all messed up and vulnerable. “Hey”, he replied. “Was waiting for you to get here. I must’ve fallen asleep.”

“Dude, you’re tired. Go to sleep.”

“No, I’m not.” He protested. “Come on, I’ve been waiting for months. I’ve been patient as hell.”

“Sleep. We got all day tomorrow. You’re half awake, I doubt that you can even get it up for me tonight.” It wasn’t true, and she knew it. He could get it up in any occasion, and she herself wasn’t a blushing virgin. She could make him hard, easy. But she also knew that he was worn out, and that he needed to recuperate, so her libido would have to be put on a leash tonight.

He grumbled, clearly unsatisfied, but acknowledge that what she said was true. He felt as if a sixteen-wheeler had ran over him. But he wasn’t about to let her go just yet. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her into his arms. “Fine then. But you’re sleeping next to me. I don’t want you running off in the morning ‘cuz im cashing out that promise tomorrow.”

Dean scooted over, making room for (y/n). She tossed her towel aside, not bothering to change into her pyjamas. “Alright. But you’re gonna be my heater. I’m too lazy to change, so I expect you to warm me up. If I catch pneumonia, then you’ll be carrying the guilt to your grave.”

“Aye, aye Captain.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She found him sitting on the bed, hunched with his back to her. It was still dark outside. She understood. She’d seen him like this enough. Something was weighing him down. Perhaps a memory, perhaps a friend in need, perhaps a problem only he could solve. She wasn’t one to pry when it came to Dean Winchester because she knew that if he wanted to share whatever was bothering him, he would in his own time.

So she did the next best thing that she could to help numb the pain.

She sat next to him, pulling his huge frame into her embrace. He felt warm. She likes that. He lets himself be dragged forward into her embrace, his soul too powerless to deny his need. She nestled closer to him, erasing any space between them, locking her arms on his back.

What was between them held no love. No affection. No judgement. It was just a need, pure and simple. A release when the loneliness gets too unbearable. When being alone hurts too much, they choose to be alone together.  
At least, that’s what she tries to convince herself of.

His hands, wonderful, wonderful hands, would track along an unfamiliar course along her spine, stopping at the small of her back. Hallow pleasure comes later. Now, they needed to cling to one another while the world continued on its warpath.  
It’s so easy to forget that they were hunters, laying down their lives for reasons that they cannot help, for innocence that was shed when tragedy stroked, when she is in his arms. Sighing, she left the cove of his neck and sought his lips. Chafed, dried, beautifully imperfect. He kissed her back, tasting tears that had long dried on her face. Salty, bitter tears of regret and sorrow. He’s had his share of them, disgusting things that bring about all his weaknesses, but hers was delicious. He didn’t mind kissing them all away. He wanted to kiss them all away.

Desperation and passion took over. What was tender comfort turned to something more. More, and then some. He pushed her against the head of the bed, knocking the breath out of her. She gasped, giving him the chance plunder her mouth at will. She didn’t fight him. She’s a fighter in every sense of the word, but in these moments, she would gladly raise a white flag.

She tangled her fingers in his honey blonde locks, letting his lips shape hers. She breathed his breath, and stole all the sounds that he makes. Mine, she thought, and added belatedly, at least for now. He detached himself from her, locking their eyes. He was asking her for permission. Ever since the first night, he would, even when she knew she was more than willing, and she every night since the first, she would comply.

His shirt fell on the floor silently, hers already been shed. She gasped when their skin touched. His skin is cold, like the metal he could wield so easily, but hers was too. Creatures of the tundra, they was. The cold was a comfort, especially when his hands circled her waist, one resting on her hips while the other travelled lower. Her hips bucked into his touch, suddenly needing more.

So, naturally, she took more. She fell to her knees, her fingers deftly searching for his waistline, and reached for him. He let out a sound, not quite a sigh, not quite a groan, a creature in between. It spurred her on, motivating her to keep going. He was well endowed, but her slim fingers gripped on whatever of him that she could. He was burning, red and hot in her shaky hands. She felt his fingers lace themselves between her hair, pulling slightly, stinging slightly, but she was pass the point of caring.  
She kissed him there, kitty-licking, lapping up his shaft. He groaned, letting her know that she was doing something right. “Fuck, (y/n)…just, fuck”, was the only sentence that he could pull through his gritted teeth. She took him into her wet cavern, letting her tongue caress every inch of him, letting him know that he was still alive and she was all that he had to focus on at the moment.

She could taste the bitter and salty drips of precome in her mouth, finding that it wasn’t unpleasant. His voice was pure sin, all throaty whispers and rasping promises. She wanted to ravage him. She, who was taught the way of a protector and healer since young, wanted to ravage this man who was mercilessly beautiful. And hers. Never forget that he was hers.

“Stop. Stop. N-not like this. I want to be in you.”

So she let go as he dropped down next to her, plundering her mouth with his, letting her taste the whiskey and cigarettes that she had been trying to make him quit. She felt her breasts swell beneath his touch. His rough, calloused hands fondled, pinched, brought her higher and higher. It was painful, but pain turned to pleasure when his mouth landed to sooth it.

“Mine”, he growled, nipping the tender flesh at her neck, bruising, marking her as his. She would be a bit pissed off at the act in the morning to come, but for now, she felt happy. Was it weird to feel captured and secure at the same time? Her reply of “Yours, Dean. Yours” was clouded with lust and want.

She was finding it harder and harder to focus as his fingers plunged into her very core, exploring, testing, and waiting for her reaction. She grit her teeth when he brushed against her nub, and let out an almost guttural scream when he found it. She climaxed, her nails digging into his arms, her back arched towards him, feeling as if her world was washed by a blinding light, leaving her mind blissfully empty. If death was as pleasant as this, she would gladly give her soul to the reaper. She laid down on the carpet, panting as if all the air in existence wasn’t enough. 

But he wasn’t done yet.

Through her haze, she saw him, still erect, his cock an angry red. She felt a sense of satisfaction at being able to leave him this aroused. This was her Dean, full of flaws and stained with blood and tears, but with her, she wanted to strip him of it all, leaving just Dean in the wake. She wanted to cleanse him.

With shaky motions, she got off the floor, pushing him down. “You don’t have to do this, (y/n). Come on, I can take care of it by myself. You should rest.” She straddled him, rubbing her clit on his abs, loving the feel of him on her sensitized sex. He was so perfect, laying there under her. She bent down, kissing him, sucking his mind off of anything that wasn’t her. “I want to. Don’t tell me I can’t, Dean. I’ve been waiting too long for this, to feel you in me,” she said, giving his cock a firm grip, balancing herself on a hand that laid on his chest. “And by the feel of this, you’re gonna fill me up nicely”

She sank down onto him until he filled her up completely, the throbbing member burning her insides. Her thighs tensed at every movement, as she pumped him into her. She could feel his heart drum on in his chest, spurring her to redouble her efforts. His hands were digging into her hips, leaving his prints as he helped her. His hips met hers at every thrust, sending her over the edge of ecstasy. 

He was near his peak. His thrusts became harsher, the rhythm broken by a selfish, selfish need to release. She didn’t mind. He could be selfish when it came to her. She would accept him no matter what. She clenched onto him, earning a pained, pleasured groan from the lips of the one she loved. The moment he lets go of all control, she felt her insides scald with his cum, burning her core. (y/n) didn’t last long after that. She climaxed with a scream of his name, crumpling onto his broad chest.  
They basked in the afterglow, panting harshly, his arms around her, cuddling and trapping her effectively to him. She wasn’t one to complain. It felt good being with him. She supposed that she should get up and shower. She was sticky all over, sweat, cum and God knows what else on her. She ached terribly, but she couldn’t bring herself to untangle from him. Not yet, her heart told her. Guiltily, she listened.

“Love you, Dean Winchester.”

That was what she wanted to say aloud, but she knew better. She was afraid of scaring him away. He wasn’t one for commitment, but his loyalty to friends lasted forever. So she would have to be content with this, whatever this is. Live in the moment, live in the now. For the future is uncertain and certainly unpleasant.

Being a hunter meant leaving behind something human. Relationships were a liability, emotions were a danger, and attachment can bring death and despair. She had learnt those the hard way, losing precious parts of her life for wisdom. One night stands became a norm after a while, because they were safe. A few minutes of freedom to be, well, human.

“Hey, hellcat. You okay?”

His voice brought her back to the present situation. She realised that he was trying to make the transition of mood less awkward than it should be. She smiled at him.

“Yeah. A bit sore though. And really sleepy. You sure know how to tire a girl out.”

His laughter shook your body. “I might say that it was the other way around. You were a bit rough tonight. Must be my manly charms that got you like this”.

“Please. Manly charms my ass. You, Winchester, just happen to have a really nice body at your disposal. And I’m exploiting it to my convenience.”

“Cuts to the core, that does.”

She knew he was kidding. He had a much thicker hide than one that would get injured by a single comment. They spent a few moments longer tangled, enjoying the silence and the company of one another.  
“Come on, let’s get some shut eye. God knows my back’s killing me right now. I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“Didn’t seem like you were aging when you were power-thrusting me back then.”

“Watch it, (y/n). Unless you’re up for another round.”

“And who said I was opposed to the idea of that? Seems like a mighty fine way to pass the night. We wouldn’t want to do anything boring like, say, sleeping, now would we?”

“You asked for it, cupcake. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

What can you say? She was a sucker for empty kisses and emptier hearts.

**Author's Note:**

> The author apologizes if the work is not to your taste. The author felt obliged to inform the Readers that she has never laid her pen down for this genre. The author also feels inclined to inform the Readers that she is sleep deprived and is in dire need of coffee, That is all.


End file.
